Violated
by ChoCedric
Summary: As Tom Riddle, Sr. lies in his bed, having returned to the home he had lived in for so long, he knows the truth. He will never be able to escape the nightmare his life has become. He'll never be able to forget how he was hoodwinked. How he was tricked. And how he was violated.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Violated

By: ChoCedric

Tom Riddle let out a shaky, stricken sigh as he lay in his bed, back at the house where he'd lived for so long with his parents. A million thoughts were racing a mile a minute through his numb brain, each one battling for dominance. He was in deep, suffocating turmoil as he went over the events of the past months.

He had loved her. Yes, he had loved her with every fiber of his being. His every heartbeat was for her, every breath he took, it was only for her. She had been everything to him, and it felt like whenever they were apart, there was no oxygen. She was his flow of air, his light, his strength.

But, he reflected as a shudder racked through his body, it was all artificial. He had been hoodwinked, taken in, and subsequently been destroyed. Merope, the woman he had trusted above everyone else, even above his own parents ... it had all been fake.

He remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She was so unsightly, so ugly, with her eyes that seemed to stare in two different directions at once. The rags she wore as clothes were filthy, and she seemed to have no awareness of her surroundings at all. He had sworn then and there that he had never seen such a shocking sight.

His father had told him stories, stories of the things that went on in that hovel, and Tom had felt bile rise in his throat just at the thought. The man, who he had later learned from Merope was named Marvolo, struck fear into the hearts of any trespassers who went near. His son, Morfin, was no better. No one really spoke of the girl; the only things they said about her was that she had been locked away, forbidden to mingle with the townsfolk.

One day, as Tom had been riding his horse, he had seen the girl outside for once, boring holes into his back. He had shivered at the stare; it looked almost predatory. He rode right by her and travelled home, but for the rest of the night, he couldn't get her grotesque eyes out of his mind. My, but she was a ghastly sight!

A few weeks later, he'd been terribly thirsty on his ride home. And it just so happened that the Gaunt girl was staring at him again as he rode by. She was holding a cup of water in her hands, and she smiled as she spotted him. Even the smile looked wrong on her beastly face.

"Excuse me," she had said as his horse stopped. "You look awfully thirsty. Would you like a drink?"

At first, Tom was extremely hesitant. He couldn't accept a drink from this ogre, could he? But ... he was so thirsty ... he couldn't bear to wait until he got home. And really, what harm would it do? The girl looked far too weak to manage something like using a poison against him.

So, with every instinct telling him to journey on and never look back, he accepted the water, ignoring his brain. As he drank it, the sweet, refreshing taste overcame him. He had an immediate thought: this can't be just water. There's something else in here.

But for some reason, he just could not stop drinking. Before he knew it, he'd drank the entire cup.

And then, he stared again at the Gaunt girl, and a strange feeling overcame him. Why in Heaven's name was he so scared of her? She'd been totally civil to him, she didn't seem like a maniac or a stalker. His eyes travelled up to her face, and now, instead of seeing the ugly beast he had seen earlier, he saw hidden beauty in every line of it.

And that was it for Tom Riddle. Everything had happened so quickly after that. He had snuck into her house, spent hours talking with her, and made love to her until the sun rose the next day. Never had he felt so alive as he did in that moment. All other thoughts escaped his brain - he did not bother to wonder about how his parents and Cecelia would take the news. All he knew was that he'd fallen so, so in love with the beautiful angel that was Merope Gaunt.

Tom's body gave another shudder as he thought about the life growing inside her now. She was unnatural, she was a freak, and whatever spawn she gave birth to would be exactly the same way. It had not become clear to him, what she had done, until she stopped giving him that sweet-tasting water. Every day, as she gave him less and less, she started to lose her beauty, and doubts made themselves known in Tom's mind. What the hell had he been thinking, leaving his parents and marrying filth like her? Why had she looked so beautiful, so radiant to him, when she was nothing but a foul, miserable creature?

He remembered this morning, when he'd packed his bags and left, telling her never to seek him out again, that he was finished with her and all her Satanism. She had sobbed, bawled, wailed, clung onto his hand, screaming and screaming and screaming. "Tom, please! Tom, please! Think of our baby, Tom, you can't leave me, please don't leave me, please! You need to stay for our baby!"

Tom had spat on the ground at her feet, staring at the pathetic woman on her knees in front of him. "No," he had snarled. "You ... you cretin. You freak. You spawn of Satan. How dare you. How dare you!"

He'd then slammed out of the house and ran, ran far, far away, trying to escape the nightmare his life had become, trying to escape her shrieks and wails for him to stay with her, which were still ringing in his ears.

He'd immediately gone back to his parents, panting and out of breath, horrified tears rolling down his cheeks, and he'd told them the whole story. But he knew they didn't believe him - he had been lucky they'd even let him back in their house. They'd done nothing but give him disgusted looks all day, looks of hate and revulsion.

And now, lying here in his bed, Tom knew the truth. He'd never be able to escape what had happened to him. He did not care to ever find out what would become of Merope, or her unnatural spawn. But even though he would never think of finding them, he knew he would always be cursed with the memory of their time together. The sighs, the moans, the pleasure that left his mouth during their lovemaking ... the thought of it made him nauseous.

And so, as an exhausted, fitful sleep finally claimed Tom Riddle, he knew for certain that he'd never forget how he had been tricked. How he had been hoodwinked. And how he had been violated. 


End file.
